All rights of the texts presented here remain with the author.
the sky darkens
till it’s shut out —
stale bread
November in my bosom —
touching a new silence
of grey silk
autumn’s eyes —
long rainy roads
without a voice
flightless sky —
white notes of silence fall
I cultivate darkness
in the silence of my
vast garden
two lamps lit
in the evening —
the dark all around
silk rags
the memories in the night —
scattered coins
snowy fields —
a knot of silence
blocks my thoughts
flowing water —
the late autumn light
is gentler
wild plants
in the cracks of the walls —
motherless
pitch-coloured sky —
all the light behind
waits for the morning
distorted note —
surrounded by the sun
the empty chair
asphalt night —
voices in the silence
rust and wind
bitter almonds —
the lights under the tree go out
windows lit
on others' lives —
night all around
solo violin —
the wind bends the branches
towards autumn
the wind drops —
in solitude
the last wheat spike
flaxen sky —
I sow yellow primroses
between the wrinkles
winter kiss —
the snow falling slowly
between earth and sky
fallen veils —
sunsets in the eyes
on a grey wall
no more sky —
the heart confused by
asphalt meadows
in the dry grass
crows two by two —
lost memories
Laura Marino Trotta was born in Rome, she then moved to Florence to attend the Faculty of Agriculture and, subsequently, the Academy of Fine Arts and the Free School of Nude.
Various
work activities have followed one another over the years, while her
search across multiple expressive possibilities and her commitment in
the Third Sector have remained constant over time. haikua
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